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This was just the kind of night that Ruby had been waiting for...one where the peasant Queen was absent from her King's side. It had taken some patience, of course, but now was her chance at long last, and Ruby de la Rouge was not about to squander such an opportunity. So she had dressed in her favorite gown --the one with the neckline that made her bosom jump up and say 'huzzah'-- and now she made her way to the dining hall where she knew His Majesty could be found this evening.

After being admitted to the room by the guards, Ruby dropped into a deep curtsy, perhaps deeper than was strictly required of her station, before she smiled lasciviously at the King. "Pardon my intrusion, Sire, but I heard you were dining alone tonight, and I thought you might enjoy some...company?" Her voice was like velvet rubbing on silk, and she batted her eyelashes as she spoke, her eyes behind them locked on the King's fine form, golden hair glinting in the firelight like rays of the sun, eyes so blue they defied the dim lighting to glimmer like the ocean's waves as he gazed back at her.

So lately I've been playing around with gifs a bit...so I figured I might show some of them off here!

You already know how I love and squeal over Amaren, darling.

But show off my children? Why, as if you need to ask! This is Alistair and Isadora's firstborn child, Sabina! Isn't she the cutest thing ever?! Excuse me while I spam you with pictures, just to prove my point.


These pictures are slightly older, but I only have the one baby picture, so these will have to prove my point!




I know, she's much older here. But still gorgeous!


Isn't she just precious? ^-^

Isadora smiled when he agreed with her choice of name, but didn't think much on it. It didn't matter what they decided to call their daughter, because they were having a son. She was very determined of that. She rolled her eyes and gave him a somewhat sarcastic smile when he affirmed that their child would not be called Vaughn. "No, not Vaughn." She agreed, it was bad enough the vile man was going to be their child's godfather...a thought that still revulsed her. Best not to think on that now.

Another contraction came as she thought on Alistair's question, turned back on her from her own lips. She tensed, squeezing his hand and crying out against the pain. "I swear those are getting more frequent," she breathed out as she gasped for breath.

"They're supposed to, my lady. You're doing very well." The midwife assured her, and Isadora nodded. She had prayed that all would go well, that nothing bad would happen to her child, and the woman's words helped to reassure her of that. She hadn't had any bad dreams about this day, and if Alistair had, he hadn't said anything about it. That had to bode well, right?

"Mae told me some druid names," she finally responded to her husband, recalling the ones she had liked best. "Taliesin was the name of a seer, she said." They knew their child shared his father's gift. "And she mentioned...Duncan, I think, and Kilian. I forget what they mean." Mae had told her all kinds of names, she could only recall a few. She wondered if any of them would mean anything to Alistair.

Perhaps officially, Guinevère was not nobility, yet Isadora knew that Arthur had every intention of making her his queen. Even if that was not public knowledge yet, Isadora felt that she ought to show the future queen the respect she was due. Besides, she'd been practicing it in her mind since Arthur's last birthday, so that she wouldn't mess up when she really was queen; that would be most humiliating. Judging by the woman's reaction, she needed to get used to it, too.

She smiled warmly, somewhat amused when she insisted that she be called by her short name, but Isadora wasn't going to argue with her. "If you insist, Gwen it is." She nodded and gestured to one of the comfortable, unused armchairs in this particular sitting room. "You're too kind. Of course, please, have a seat." She smoothed her own skirt as she took her seat again, she was grateful for the interruption. Isadora wasn't used to relaxing, but the healers insisted it was good for the baby, so she was trying to take some time off here and there...and it was liable to bore her to death. "How are things in Camelot?"

Isadora laughed with shared glee as Mithian embraced her, returning the gesture, just as careful as her friend was to make sure neither of them mussed their dresses or their hair. Both women shared certain priorities, it was why they got along so well! "As I have you! It's such a shame when our duties keep us apart for so long." For they both had their responsibilities to their respective kingdoms, and neither of them would ever think of shirking those duties, no matter what they might want to do.

Turning so that she stood beside her friend rather than before her, she linked arms with Mithian and drew her deeper into the party, to seek out a place where they could talk. "Now before I start to interrogate you about every single detail of your life since the last time I saw you, I feel it is my duty as a good hostess to see to it you are well sated. May I offer you some wine, or perhaps a bite to eat?" She was quite serious about the interrogation thing. Isadora knew that Mithian had the good fortune to travel with her brother, and she did so love to hear of distant lands...not to mention any juicy gossip about the people who lived there.

The castle of Gwent was positively abuzz with motion, servants hurrying to and fro with platters of food and drink, while nobles dressed in colorful gowns and tunics entered the great hall, everyone ready for an evening of merrymaking and maybe even a little debauchery. Even those who would never partake in such things hoped for it, because it would give everyone something to giggle and gossip about later. Isadora was no exception, even as she stood by her Father's side as he looked out over the congregation, his seat the highest in the room to show his sovereignty.

They were celebrating the engagement of one of her cousins to a noble of another land, their union to symbolically bind the two lands. It was the best way to ensure peace, she knew, and she knew that one day, she would likely be in that position, too. But not today. Today, she would simply get to enjoy the festivities, and Isadora always did enjoy a good banquet. Plenty of good food, plenty of people to mingle with, and the opportunity to see friends, old and new alike. Speaking of old friends....

Isadora excused herself from her father's side as she heard the introduction for the entourage from Nemeth being called. Her father gave her a knowing smile before he granted her permission to go, and she pressed an affectionate kiss to his kiss before she made her way nearer to the main entrance, so she could greet the attendees from Nemeth, or really, just one person in particular. "Mithian!" Isadora called warmly when she saw her friend, making her way through the crowd towards her.

Tagged for: Mithian
Setting: Early Season 1
Location: The Great Hall of Gwent

She wasn't sure what compelled her to try it. Even as a girl, when she'd been made to practice the silly art by her mother, she had been terrible at it. After her mother had passed away, she hadn't seen the point in continuing on in the craft when she was so miserably doomed to fail, and being a princess, no one had even tried to change her mind. Maybe it was the apparent madness that seemed to accompany her pregnancy.

Alistair thought they went mad when they fell in love? Well that was nothing compared to the sheer senselessness that she often found herself possessed with since she'd found herself with child. She would say, do, and even feel things that made absolutely no sense at all, and later on she would realize it and wonder about the fact. Alistair was entirely baffled and had taken to performing miscellaneous tasks around the kingdom in order to avoid her wrath. At least, that was why she thought he was doing it, but why else would he wander off to do menial labor of his own free will? It was just as well, as it gave her plenty of time to...fail miserably at the same task she'd been failing at her whole life. Blasted little tiny threads! She was a princess! Didn't they know they ought to do as she willed?

"Ow!" She exclaimed softly when she pricked her finger with the needle, giving a woeful sigh as she looked down at her finger. It wasn't bleeding...but she was about ready to give up on this whole endeavor regardless. Who was she to think that she could actually do embroidery? Even if it was for a blanket for her baby...what kind of a mother couldn't even make their baby a blanket? Who was she kidding, she was going to be terrible at this! She stared down at the mass of unruly yellow threads poking out of the deep blue fabric in what was supposed to be the crest of Gwent, and instead looked like...a blob of nothing she could identify.

She could try again later...it would be months before the baby would be born. But what difference would it make? She knew herself, she wasn't going to ask anyone for help with something that was supposed to be so trivial, that every princess was supposed to be able to do anyways. She dropped her hand to the growing bump lovingly, protruding just enough to be clearly noticeable no matter what kind of dress she wore. Not that she needed to hide anything; she and Alistair had been married for months now. And things were going so smoothly...if only she could figure out how to make the damn threads do as they were supposed to, she thought to herself as she proceeded to attack the blanket with her needle yet again.

Tagged: Guinevère!
Setting: A sitting room in the castle of Gwent
Time: About five months after the end of Series 3
Notes: I don't know why you're in Gwent, but you are! Muahahaha.

Isadora wasn't exactly in a position to get away from him when he lunged at her, but she wasn't helpless either. She had known that he was in the castle, after all, so she wasn't about to go around completely defenseless. He grabbed her throat, and she pulled out one of the daggers Alistair had given her; pretty, ornate things, but still deadly enough for her purpose. He took a hold of her throat and she placed the cold, sharp steel against his; even if he tried to choke the life out of her, she'd have time to slash his windpipe.

"You'd die trying," she answered, she wouldn't hesitate, whether he was Alistair's friend or brother or whatever...it wasn't just her life he threatened, after all, but that of her child as well. She wouldn't even regret it, and Alistair would forgive her eventually. Even if he never did, she would still never let Vaughn or anyone else hurt her child. "You speak as though you have been grievously wronged, when he tries to bestow honor beyond your measure upon you."

Vaughn did not deserve to bear the mantle of godfather. He was proving that right now, by threatening the life of the child Alistair thought he would protect. If they entrusted their baby to him, he'd probably toss it to the wolves at his earliest opportunity. "Are you going to release me, and pretend to be a man for five minutes, or do you wish to continue raging like an overgrown child?" She answered his question with one of her own in a cold tone, and raised an eyebrow critically.